Animal
by FerryBerry
Summary: S6. When Quinn comes back to Lima unexpectedly, it's to an equally unexpected sight - and it unleashes a side of her that hasn't come out to play in years, with the one person who always follows her reaping the benefits this time.
1. Part 1

**Disclaimer:** All belongs to _Glee_ writers and creators.

**A/N:** I am not going to be updating for an undetermined amount of time for reasons explained on my Tumblr, so I'm adding a few things that have thus far only been on there for your enjoyment in the meantime.

**Part 1**

Of all the things to see when Rachel walked into the auditorium, an hour early to the new glee club's meeting, this was the last sight she expected. Noah and…Sam? Sam and…Noah? Noah and Sam, Sam and Noah, lips locked, noses dueling, fingers scrunching Noah's pristine uniform, curling into Sam's blond locks, holding him fast.

Rachel had seen a lot of strange things in her time, most of which took place in this very building. Sometimes this very room. But this had to be the most unexpected. Hadn't Sam made it plain to Kurt and Blaine and everyone else in the world that he wasn't gay? Hadn't he dated practically every girl in the glee club aside from Tina? Hadn't he just been kissing Rachel herself? Of course, Rachel was the first person to acknowledge the existence of bisexuality, but…

Then there was Noah, too? Noah, who had pursued and pursued and pursued not only every woman in sight, but most especially Quinn. Hadn't he finally, _finally_ snagged her last year, after so long pining? Hadn't they finally settled into their relationship?

Yet here both Sam and Noah were, on stage, kissing. Right in front of Rachel's eyes.

She had to look away, to process this, to try to figure out - oh, God.

Quinn.

Standing above the stage and seats, her favorite perch, gripping slender fingers tightly around the railing. Standing in the shadows in her black tee and jeans, lips ruby red and pressed thinly together. Back unexpectedly. Probably to surprise Noah. Who was kissing Sam.

For a moment, Rachel carried the weight of Quinn's eyes on hers, staring. But it was only a moment before Quinn turned around and left, and Rachel did what she had always done, would always do - she followed.

Once in the hallway, she whipped about for the sounds of Quinn's footsteps and caught sight of her already nearing the double doors at the end of the hallway. Rachel doubled her pace, but still she only just made it out the doors to catch Quinn pulling out of her parking space in her refurbished, red VW. On impulse, Rachel stepped out on the asphalt, and Quinn hit the brakes. She took the opportunity and ran for the passenger door. The moment she was buckled, Quinn's foot hit the gas again. But she said nothing.

Rachel couldn't tell what she was thinking. Quinn only stared straight ahead at the road, gripping the steering wheel in both hands, exactly at ten and two. Her knuckles were white, and the muscles in her jaw bulged. But her eyes were dry. Narrowed, but dry.

Rachel thought to say something, but every time she opened her mouth, it fell shut again a moment later. What could she say? Sorry? Are you okay? The cliches weren't good enough, not for Quinn, and particularly when Quinn was being as unreadable as she was. Quinn had to be handled delicately, and so Rachel watched her, but respected the silence.

Quinn pulled into the garage of her old house, a veritable mansion, and Rachel slid out after her, trailing her into the mudroom and then down a creaking, wooden set of stairs into a fairly lavish basement, set up like a recreation room, a man cave. She wondered, and thought to ask, if this was where Quinn's father spent most of his time, but thought better of it. The answer was obvious.

A green felt pool and card table sat on opposite sides of the room from a large, plush recliner and leather couch in front of a large, wide screen TV. And along the wall between them, a custom-made bar, from which Quinn pulled a glass and a bottle of something and poured. Her knuckles were still white in their hold, but there was no shake in her hand. She was poised as ever, in spite of tension, in spite of Sam and Noah.

Rachel slid her rear up onto one of the leather stools, leaning her elbows onto the polished wood. Quinn just finished pouring and tilted the glass back. She drank it all the way down before she sucked in a breath, licked her lips, and poured again. Rachel sighed.

"Quinn…"

Hazel eyes instantly latched onto her, but she didn't stop pouring until the glass was full.

Rachel gnawed at her bottom lip. "I don't know what to say," she admitted.

"Do you have to say anything?" Quinn's voice never even wavered.

Rachel was starting to find it a bit eerie, but still she pressed on, "You just saw the love of your life kissing your other ex-boyfriend, I'd think you deserve some comfort."

"He's not the love of my life," Quinn said simply. She drained the glass again. "But feel free to comfort me, of course. I'd hate to deprive you."

"I'm sorry… I guess…" Rachel straightened, smoothing out the wrinkles in her skirt. She didn't know why, but her eyes were stinging peculiarly strongly. "I guess I shouldn't have followed you…"

"Well, why did you?" Quinn growled, and it sent a shudder straight up Rachel's spine.

"Because I _thought_ you'd be upset, that you might need a _friend_." Rachel puffed a breath, frowning at that perfectly composed expression. "But since you don't seem to particularly care, as always - "

Glass shattered against the wall so sharply it left Rachel screeching in spite of herself, and then the contents of the bar, including the bottle, followed Quinn's glass to the floor, and Quinn was steaming and fuming and glaring at Rachel with a power she hadn't done so with since high school. Rachel could only stare, wide-eyed, at the way her nostrils flared and her fists clenched around her own hip bones - with crushing, white-knuckled pressure - and her eyes shone dark and intent on their one target. And right now their one target was Rachel, and Rachel was back in sophomore year, trying not to quake in her boots, to be defiant in the face of such intensity, while her body was flushing with heat.

"Is this _upset_ enough for you?" Quinn hissed. "Am I _feeling_ enough? Are you _satisfied_ now?"

Rachel sucked a breath. "Quinn, I didn't - "

"You didn't mean this kind of upset!" she mocked, and Rachel's trap fell shut again. "You meant for me to cry, to fall apart over him, let it out, let it go, like some little high school girl whose boyfriend just cheated on her. Well, sorry to say, we're not in fucking high school anymore." Quinn marched over to the mini fridge, whipping it open as she spoke. "Which is why this time was supposed to be different. This time, we were supposed to fucking commit, because we're all fucking adults who are all past our fucking high school problems." She straightened again, beer in hand, and popped off the cap with nary a wave of her wrist. "And while I've been fucking Saint Mary the Virgin, he's been fucking Sam."

Quinn chugged back half the bottle, and Rachel could do nothing but stare, but sit on her stool and try not to fall off of it, or squirm off of it, or to let it show how hard it was getting to breathe when Quinn was roaring and pacing in front of her.

"Because why the fuck not, right? He's only always ever fucked everything that moves and apparently that extends to guys now, too. More power to him, really, going back to his roots after spending a few fucking weeks at fucking McKinley. My mistake, really, thinking this time would be any different. That we were doing it for our little girl, so maybe we could do _one_ thing right by her in her lifetime. That he loved me _so_ much, he just can't live without me, you know. And I thought, why not. Why keep denying what you and everyone else wants me to give into, why keep denying the one person who keeps coming back and loving me, because it's _different_ now. It's not _high school_ now. Hell, if it were, you'd be mooning over the captain of the football team. Oh, wait a second. We're there."

Rachel blinked a few times, as Quinn snarled and stepped past her, doing mental jumping jacks to keep up now with her raving - and by the time she caught up, Quinn was deep in the cushions of the leather armchair, taking another long swig of beer. Rachel slid off the stool, trailing around the end of the couch to get a proper look at that familiarly angry face. Quinn's eyes targeted her immediately, and she straightened, pulling on her own sleeves with her thumbs.

"You mean Sam?" she prompted, meekly.

Quinn's eyes rolled so far back Rachel worried they would get stuck there. "Yes, I mean Sam," she spat.

Rachel chewed her lip and stretched her sleeves a bit more. "If I had known our relationship would be a problem for you - "

"It's not. Although it hardly matters now, does it?" Quinn sneered and promptly turned back to her beer.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders. "I guess not."

A pregnant pause settled between them before Rachel dared to speak again.

"Do you feel any better now?"

Quinn peered at her with those sharp eyes. "No, but I'm sure you do."

Rachel sighed. "I only wanted to help. Quinn, I still care about you."

"Spare me." The eyes went back to the beer, as did the ruby red lips.

"It's true," she insisted, a bit more firmly now. "It's like what you said. We're so different, but…there's nothing I wouldn't do for you." When Quinn's gaze finally settled on her again, Rachel smiled tentatively. "Even if it means…letting you scare the crap out of me while you vent."

Quinn's fingers twisted the bottle around, eyes flickering away for a moment in what Rachel recognized as shame. "I'm sorry - "

"Don't be. You're even beautiful when you're furious. Maybe even more so, because you're not holding back." Quinn pinned her again, and Rachel cleared her throat. "Anyway, I only meant the glass was startling. Well…and I've never heard you use the 'f' word so many times in a row. Or ever, come to think of it…"

Quinn half-snorted, half-scoffed. "Only when I'm too angry to properly use the English language."

Rachel allowed herself to smile more fully, though it faded when she noted how tightly Quinn still grasped the bottle in her hand. "I'm sorry it didn't help. Venting."

"I just thought we - I was done with all this," she breathed out, in a long sigh that brought Rachel's heart sagging in her chest.

"With high school?"

Quinn nodded once. "And switching partners and… I thought…I could just come back long enough to help and that it would be fine. You know, I wouldn't even care if he had just told me he wanted Sam, to my face, before anything happened. Like an adult."

Rachel's brow furrowed. "You wouldn't?"

"Well…I'd be disappointed we couldn't…work things out for Beth's sake, but. Not surprised." Quinn dropped her head back against the cushion and breathed, slowly.

"I'm sorry I…pushed you into something you knew wasn't going to work out."

"What are you talking about, pushed? You gave your opinion. Once. That you thought Puck and I should be together. Not even _when_ we were supposedly permanently getting together, so don't put it on yourself."

Rachel bit her lip. "I'm still sorry."

Quinn just eyed her for a moment. "And what about you?"

She tilted her head. "What about me?"

"Sam. Shouldn't you be ripping him a new one about now?" She jerked her head toward the stairs.

"Oh." Rachel couldn't help a chuckle. "He doesn't owe me anything. We kissed maybe twice. And he's sweet, and maybe it could've been something…" Quinn nodded, her gaze started to trail, and Rachel couldn't stop herself from saying, "But even if it was something, I'd still be here, with you."

Quinn was pinning her again immediately, hazel eyes sharpened and dark as the moment she'd burst in anger, and another shudder shot down Rachel's spine, sending her posture straight.

"Why?" Quinn prompted, almost wary.

Rachel shrugged her shoulders, clasping her hands together. "I guess it's my instinct to follow you. To be with you. Especially when your world is crumbling right in front of me."

She gnawed on her lip as her stomach threatened to make an appearance in the outside world, finding all her bravery sapped from issuing those words to Quinn Fabray at her most volatile. Well, perhaps not her most volatile, at the moment. There was no throwing or screaming or glass shattering, but her eyes said everything. Her predatory eyes said she could be provoked at any moment, even that she would _like_ to be provoked. And for a long stretch of silence, those eyes just stared at Rachel, unyielding and unwavering, so long Rachel wondered if she should just turn and go, but just as she was about to make one such awkward exit, Quinn spoke - or rather, growled.

"Come here."


	2. Part 2

**Part 2**

Rachel supposed no one could've resisted that voice, that command, even if they were trying. And she didn't - try, that is. Nor did she resist. Only internally berated herself for not doing either one while she stepped forward, one foot in front of the other as she crossed the eternal landscape between herself and Quinn sitting on her throne, contemplating her. She should've resisted. She should've held back, made Quinn say it again, because Quinn liked the power and she liked the game and she liked the teasing.

But Rachel came forward anyway, until she arrived at the end of the length of the oak coffee table, where Quinn just barely lifted a couple fingers and said, "Stop."

Rachel stopped. Just a foot or two away from having her legs pressed up against Quinn's, and cursed herself out again for obeying so readily. She thought to ask, to prompt why - had Quinn changed her mind? But Quinn was already ravishing her with just her eyes, traveling up from Rachel's flats, along the stockings encasing her legs to the skirt swaying around her thighs, over her grey top, only she wasn't really looking at the clothes at all, but almost through them, the form underneath them. Rachel felt every inch of her being kissed and touched by those eyes.

And then Quinn purred, "Take off your clothes."

Rachel's eyebrows popped up reflexively, surprised. She hesitated, but Quinn only quirked her eyebrow back, cocking her head. Challenging. Rachel worried her bottom lip and toed off her flats, pushing them aside with one foot before she reached for the hem of her top. She peered at Quinn again, those waiting eyes, and swallowed down the nerves before she lifted it up to fling aside. Instantly she was cold, goosebumps crawling up the skin of her arms, making the faint hairs stand on end, and in the interests of getting it over with, she reached for the zipper on her skirt.

Quinn's fingers lifted again. "Bra first. Slower."

Quinn's voice went straight between Rachel's legs for the fourth time in a row. She was beginning to feel wet despite the cool air on her skin - wetter than before, from simply watching Quinn's virulent rage. So she paused and gave Quinn what she wanted - a show, of sorts. She slid her hands up her sides and back, tracing along smooth honey skin until she reached the clasp of her bra and pulled it loose.

Rachel's nipples were hardening already, a combination of arousal and cold air, but when she dropped her shoulders to let the straps slide down her arms, her breasts felt tight from the strain of them. She caught her bra before it fell to the floor and tossed it over with the shirt, not allowing herself to catch Quinn's expression, to read her face. If she was displeased, she'd ask Rachel to stop - but she didn't say anything.

Rachel lifted her foot up onto the coffee table, tracing her fingers up her thigh to draw back the hem of her skirt, until she had her thumbs hooked in the stocking. She allowed herself to glance at Quinn, but she didn't meet her gaze. Her hazel eyes were narrowed on her fingers, waiting. Rachel pushed the fabric down, rolling it down her leg one inch at a time, and pointed her toe as she reached her foot - but before she could slip it off all the way, Quinn's fingers moved again, in Rachel's peripherals.

"Do that again."

Rachel sucked in a breath, curled her fingers in the roll of fabric, and drew it back up her leg to start all over again - even slower this time. She watched Quinn more carefully this time, the way she watched caramel skin uncovered by sheer black stockings. Her hazel eyes were even darker now, darker than just angry, and she gripped the beer bottle with increasing pressure. She even seemed to have slid down in the armchair some, relaxing back on her throne while Rachel stripped in front of her. She looked like a queen, and if it hadn't been for the change in her eyes and the change in her breath, Rachel would've thought she was having no effect on her.

But Quinn pulled in breaths almost as heavily as Rachel did, even more so when Rachel switched legs, and made a point of smoothing her palm over her own inner thigh while she removed this stocking. Toes freed but cold, Rachel wanted nothing more than to wrap up in a blanket - or surge into Quinn's lap, because turned on as she was, her body was still covered in gooseflesh. Still, she resisted either urge and focused on unzipping her skirt with a discreet finger before she maneuvered her hands beneath the line of her panties and slid them both off at once, as far as she could before they fell down the remainder of her legs, and then she brushed them aside with her foot and straightened.

Quinn said nothing more, and Rachel had nothing more to remove, so she stood there under Quinn's intent scrutiny, waiting. The silence ticked by with increasing pressure, and Rachel folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself for warmth in the cold basement. Quinn's fingers moved immediately.

"Don't."

Rachel hesitated, breathing, "I'm cold."

Quinn met her eyes then - the darkness in them softened a bit. "Come here," she repeated.

Rachel wasted no time in stepping forward, pressing her knees against Quinn's until Quinn raised her hands to Rachel's hips, urging her closer. Quinn's touch was electric, sending sparks over Rachel's body that sent her gushing even as she lifted her knees up on either side of Quinn's hips, between her thighs and the armrests, and straddled her comfortably. Though not to Quinn's satisfaction, as she only gripped Rachel's hips harder and drew her forward until Rachel could feel her sex pressing against the cold button of Quinn's jeans, the fabric itself scraping across her thighs, but she didn't complain, because Quinn was warm.

And Quinn started stroking her skin - so slowly and so delicately Rachel couldn't help but press herself closer, to rock her hips as subtly as possible and achieve pressure against her swollen folds. Quinn only caressed - hot palms streaking up her thighs and up the length of her back, making her arch forward, and it seemed to be precisely what Quinn wanted, because then she pecked Rachel's left breast, and then the right, teasing them. Rachel whined, gripping Quinn's shoulders as leverage to snuggle her hips down tighter.

Quinn hardly seemed to notice. She scraped her nails down Rachel's back, leaving her to keen and hiss and grip Quinn closer yet, until she was treated with the touch of Quinn's mouth again, this time pressing a passing, quick lick with the tip of her tongue to each breast. Rachel's hips jerked, and Quinn did it again before she captured a nipple in her mouth and Rachel let out such a sound as she'd never even heard herself make as Quinn sucked - hard. She was suddenly far too turned on to resist grinding on her lap, pushing her clit against the button of Quinn's jeans - the cold on the fire of her pussy was delicious.

Rachel dug her nails sharply into those strong shoulders. When Quinn eased off the sucking, it was only to neatly flick the tip of her tongue on her nipple and that was just as torturous as anything Rachel had ever felt. She'd gone from total overwhelming sensation to too little, and Quinn knew it, she was sure, though her only reaction to Rachel's whining in her ear was to jerk her closer around the waist, to growl against her breast - the vibration of that didn't help matters at all - but she didn't stop. Hardly even for a breath.

Rachel lost track of the amount of time Quinn spent latched to her nipple, licking, sucking, biting it - though the bites were rare, they sent a shock straight down to Rachel's centre every time, made her rollick that much harder against Quinn's jeans, made her grip Quinn that much harder. She tried, at one point or another, to tug Quinn's shirt off, but every attempt ended with Quinn pushing her hands away, and whether it was because she didn't want to leave Rachel's breast or didn't want Rachel seeing her naked period, Rachel didn't know, and she learned not to care, because she was so close to the edge - and she came, crying out softly into Quinn's soft blonde hair.

And Quinn kept going. As if she hadn't even noticed, but Rachel's breast was starting to feel taut and sore, her nipple even worse, and she weakly pushed at Quinn's shoulders, still trying to catch her breath.

"Quinn - Quinn, too much," she panted. "Hurts."

Quinn popped her mouth off almost immediately then, peering up at Rachel through half-lidded, dark eyes that instantly sent a shudder down her spine and more fluids gushing from her pussy - she almost pressed her back against her breast all over again, save for the fact that it was raw and red, recovering. So instead Rachel cupped Quinn's beautiful face and drew her soft, soft lips up into a kiss, and once Quinn was kissing her thoroughly, she wrapped her arms about her neck and smiled, leaning comfortably into Quinn's strong arms and her perfect lips and her warmth.

The cotton of her black tee was a nice contrast to the scrape of her jeans, particularly against her raw skin, and Rachel found herself wanting to sink into it, into Quinn. Her mind was all abuzz with Quinn's lips, with her tongue - Quinn kissed her like she wanted to devour her, and that was something Rachel had never felt before. She liked it. More than liked it. She wanted to be kissed like that every day, though it took her breath away so that she had to tear her mouth off of Quinn's, burying it instead into her neck and her shirt, where she planted several tiny kisses, breathing in the fresh laundry scent and the lilac scent and the Quinn scent, one she'd only gotten a whiff of a few times, when they hugged, but which was very distinct, and tingled at Rachel's nostrils every time. She wanted more.

Rachel slid off her lap, carefully untangling herself from Quinn's arms so that she could take her hands instead, pulling her up out of the chair and toward the stairs. She grinned at Quinn's puzzled expression, eyebrow popped up, and pranced along until Quinn gripped her hand tighter and drew her back, questioning quietly, in that dangerous voice of hers that sent another shudder through Rachel's body, "What are you doing?"

Rachel pressed up to her, to kiss her and feel her warmth again. "I thought we'd use your bedroom…"

Quinn's arms gripped around her. Her eyes had gone golden. "No. Right here." She sucked Rachel's breath away with a kiss, and suddenly her ass was being pressed rather firmly up against the frame of the leather couch. "Right now."

Rachel couldn't have protested if she'd wanted to, because Quinn was devouring her moments after she husked those words, pushing her thighs apart with her knee and holding her against the back of the couch so she couldn't do much to move, either. She could do nothing, in fact, except hold onto Quinn's shoulders and try to breathe when Quinn's mouth moved to her neck instead, arching back to give her more room and because she simply couldn't hold herself up anymore, knees wobbling and body trembling, but Quinn took care of that with an arm about her lower back.

The other hand, in the meantime, was stroking her body again with a sweaty palm, pulling and massaging Rachel's mostly untouched breast with a firmness that made Rachel wriggle in her arms. And as good as that felt, as good as the cotton shirt felt, she wanted Quinn's skin the way Quinn was having hers. Rachel scrabbled at her top, pulling it up by increments until she could get her nails into porcelain skin, could feel the warm smooth stretch of her muscles, and only a moment after she was given the chance to explore all that, Quinn pushed two fingers into her sopping entrance, and Rachel cried out and scratched - for leverage, for more.

But she didn't have to ask for more, because Quinn was thrusting, using her leg and hip to push deep - and hard. So hard Rachel felt her ass bumping roughly against the frame of the couch, hitting her bones unpleasantly and scooting her up by increments that were resisted by the layer of sweat coating her skin, but the rest of it felt so good she couldn't bring herself to complain. If anything, it added to the sensation of it all - because Rachel had never been fucked so hard in her life.

Nor so fervently. Quinn was biting and licking her skin - all over. Sucking her veins and tendons like she was feasting on them, biting her like she owned her, and licking her to soothe the sting - maybe. Or perhaps just to taste her skin, to taste the salty sweat on her, because Rachel certainly wanted to taste Quinn's skin. Only Quinn was so dominating she could do nothing but enjoy, enjoy the firmness of muscles under her nails and the sharpness of teeth on her neck, the hotness of a tongue, and the length of two pale fingers filling her up from the inside and making her moan like she was in heat.

Rachel even came - once or maybe twice, when Quinn flicked her thumb on her sensitive, throbbing clit, but Quinn just kept at her until Rachel screamed - screamed her name, in fact, loud and long, and only then did Quinn stop - partly, Rachel supposed, because she had her hand trapped between two clamping thighs and two fingers trapped inside a squeezing pussy. Quinn didn't try to dislodge herself, only kissing Rachel's neck until she let her go, and then lowered her back onto the couch, leaving her legs over the back of it.

Rachel squirmed onto her side, along the couch instead - but just barely, because her whole body was trembling still, and she had never felt so exhausted and elated at once. She settled onto her stomach - her ass was a bit too bruised to be on her back at the moment, and although her breast was still raw, it wasn't as fresh. And either way, she felt sticky against the leather couch, almost glued to it.

But all that fell out of her thoughts when Quinn appeared, dropping between the back of the couch and Rachel, stroking a hand up and down her spine. Her breaths were still sharp, but she was tender in her touch, and Rachel couldn't help but smile to herself, basking in the afterglow of perfection.

At least until Quinn's fingers started to wander down, teasing the top of her ass while her mouth closed on Rachel's shoulder, biting softly before she left a lick there with a circular swipe of her tongue. Rachel shuddered, but still, she murmured, "Mm, Quinn, I don't think I can again, so soon."

"Yes, you can," Quinn growled simply.

Rachel gasped softly, as Quinn's forefinger dipped down the line of her ass, parting her legs reflexively. Quinn took the invitation, moving back up on top of her, and soon enough Rachel's pussy was filled again - she couldn't resist, pushing her hips up and rollicking them as Quinn took up thrusting almost as roughly as before, but Rachel could tell she was taking it easier, and she smiled even as she moaned into the cushion. Quinn's free hand drew her hair away from her face, saving her from another sticky situation, before she settled it on Rachel's shoulder and held her there - making her buck into Quinn's fingers, and Rachel could only come twice more before she felt her eyes roll back and her body go limp. She was definitely, definitely going to have a lot of making up to do when she woke up.


	3. Part 3

**A/N: **Caught up with Tumblr.

**Part 3**

The world seemed unnaturally still when Rachel opened her eyes up to it again. After so much activity, so much mind and body bending sex, it was a little strange to find everything so still, a pale hand curled on the black leather in front of her - her own tucked under her chin. A smile crept up her cheeks, looking at long fingers that not so long ago been deep inside her, pleasuring her.

Quinn was still dressed, lying along Rachel's opposite side against the back of the couch again. Rachel could feel the soft warm cotton of her shirt, the slight scrape of her jeans now and then against her own bare legs. And Quinn's arm stretched over her back, not holding her, but still offering a sense of comfort, of solidarity and companionship.

Rachel ached between her legs already, and she squeezed her thighs together with a sigh that was half a moan. She couldn't even count how many orgasms Quinn had given her. And yet she just laid there, patient, not pressing Rachel to wake up or repay the favor. In fact, Rachel thought she might've been sleeping, though she was far too content at the moment to lift her head and look. But Quinn's breathing was steady, slow. Evenly paced. Her fingers twitched now and then.

Rachel nuzzled herself forward, until she could brush her nose and her lips against Quinn's hand, greeting the soft skin with long kisses. On her thumb, on her knuckles, then to the two fingers that had been pulsing and thrusting inside her - only to freeze with a start when Quinn's husky voice practically rumbled behind her, "What are you doing?"

She giggled, pressing another, shorter kiss to Quinn's pinky finger. Her voice was hoarser than she expected when she teased, "I'm showing my gratitude, couldn't you tell?"

The couch cushions bobbed beneath Rachel as Quinn shifted up onto her elbow. She grimaced as the leather audibly peeled off her skin when she turned to look up at hazel eyes. They were calmer now, she could see. No longer golden or black, but almost back to their normal green with flecks of gold and brown. But Quinn didn't linger there, looking at her like Rachel could've looked back forever.

Quinn rose up off the couch, slipping over Rachel's legs to head back toward the bar and mini-fridge, and when she returned, it was with two bottles of water, one of which she handed down to Rachel.

"Thanks." She sat up as she took it, grimacing again before she unscrewed the lid and let the coolness coast own her throat, soothing it.

Quinn seemed to wait until Rachel had taken that initial, long sip before she set her bottle on the coffee table and walked off again. Rachel craned her neck to follow her movement this time, all the way to a closet door next to the stairs, where Quinn dragged down a folded throw and tossed it onto the couch on her return. Rachel smiled - the chill of the basement _had_ been starting to return after the heat her body had been exuding. She grabbed up the throw and draped it around her own shoulders, sitting up a bit to slide it beneath her rear and protect her skin from more marks in sticking to the couch.

Then Rachel smiled up at Quinn, offered another 'thanks,' and drank another gulp of water. Quinn grabbed up her bottle and flopped back into the cushions across from Rachel in one motion, stretching her arms across the rest on her side and the back of the couch. Looking for all the world like a queen on her throne - again. As usual, really. Rachel resisted the urge to crawl over into the arc of her body when Quinn lifted her knee up on the couch as well, leaving herself open to it - but not looking very welcoming at the moment.

When she finally spoke, tilting her head at Rachel with those scrutinizing eyes, it was lowly and evenly. "Are you okay?"

Rachel scoffed a laugh. "I'm...more than okay." She flashed her teeth. "You just don't seem very open to conversation at the moment…"

"When has that ever stopped you?"

That was a bit more like Quinn. The subtle smirk and quirk of her eyebrow, the smooth delivery. Rachel smiled.

"Touche. Are _you_ okay? I mean. Do you feel any better _now_?"

Quinn shrugged one shoulder. "I don't feel like taking a bat to Puck's head anymore. So thanks for that." She lifted her bottle, almost in cheers, before tossing it back.

"You're welcome, I guess," Rachel chuckled, biting on her lip. "That was, um...well, it sounds cliche to say amazing, but it really was. You're…" She swallowed, glancing over Quinn's long, lithe body, draped so casually over her end of the couch. "Pretty fantastic." She found herself flushing, looking at her hands clasped together in her lap.

She felt Quinn eyeing her for an interminable moment. "So are you."

Rachel peered up at her from beneath her lashes, the beginnings of a smile curling her mouth - but then Quinn breathed in again.

"But you know this is the only night we can ever spend together. Right?"

Rachel's stomach flopped. "Wh - I mean. Why?"

"Because we're not in high school anymore," Quinn said simply.

Rachel's brow furrowed harshly. She stared at a stoic face, steady eyes. "What does that have to do with...with this? I mean, I...get that Noah cheating on you is just high school all over again for you and that he didn't do the adult thing when he did it, I understand where not being in high school anymore comes in there, but...here?"

She breathed out a sigh. "You wouldn't understand."

Quinn stood abruptly then, heading back toward the bar, and Rachel gaped after her.

"Explain it to me then."

Quinn straightened from the mini-fridge with another beer, popping the cop off. "It's in the past. And I don't look back anymore. Remember?"

"This isn't the past, this is now," Rachel said slowly.

"Why it happened has to do with the past."

She frowned. "It doesn't have to be about Noah and Sam."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what _do_ you mean?" Rachel waited, but Quinn only took a drink. "Can't you just stop...hiding, for once, and tell me directly?"

"I'm not hiding." Quinn shrugged, leaning back against the fridge. "I'm telling you it doesn't matter. It's in the past."

She could've screamed. "Spare me the Timon and Pumbaa defense, Quinn."

Quinn grinned at her, and Rachel instantly felt herself flushing.

Still, she muttered, "Nice to see you smile again."

"Look. I know you, Rachel." She smiled again, approaching the couch slowly, until she propped a knee up on the armrest. "If we make this...a thing, then eventually you're going to think we're some kind of couple and I'm not doing that anymore."

"Doing...what anymore?"

"The couple thing."

Rachel scoffed, eyebrows popping up. "So one bad experience and you're - "

"No, not one. Several."

"But it's _Noah_. Of course he cheated!"

"It's not Puck that's surprising. It's Sam." Quinn huffed when Rachel only stared, waiting for explanation. "Sam is the only person I know who's been capable of being completely faithful. And he's not, either. So none of us can. Not Sam, not Puck, not me - not even you, when you were with _Finn_, could stay faithful, because we're all just a bunch of fucking animals." She shrugged and took another drink.

Rachel scowled. "Your cynicism is astounding." Quinn only smirked, so she sighed. "So, what, you're just going to have sex from now on? No relationships, no love?"

Quinn shrugged. "Love doesn't work out for me."

"It could! With the right person!" Quinn chuckled at her, and Rachel pouted. "What?"

"You're already doing it." Off Rachel's look, she added, "Acting like we're going to be together now, like we're going to date, but sex isn't dating."

She stared again. "You sound like Santana."

"Well, maybe she always had the right idea."

"You don't mean that."

"Don't tell me what I mean." Quinn shook her head. "And don't...make this more than it was, because we both know how it's going to play out."

Rachel folded her arms defiantly. "Enlighten me. Tell me again, how the story plays out, Quinn," she emphasized.

It instantly lit a spark in Quinn's eyes, a bit of that anger rising again, so her voice was silken steel when she said, "I go back to Yale, where I belong. And you stay here and take care of your little...project. In Lima. And we both forget about this."

Rachel breathed out a long sigh. "Why are you still so hateful of this place? And further, why did you bother to come back to help if you hate it so much?"

"Because Lima isn't where you end up, it's where you start out," Quinn spat. "And these kids deserve a chance to start. Besides, I still believe that glee club _can_ offer a place for the lonely to be less so."

"So why are you judging me for trying to bring it back?"

"I'm not judging you. It's a noble cause."

Rachel waited. "But?"

Quinn pursed her lips. "But you're a star. You don't help others rise to stardom; you inspire them to it by being what you are. By rising yourself."

"A lot of people call that selfish," she muttered.

"A lot of people are jealous. A lot of people are assholes. And a lot of people don't understand what it is to have a gift like yours."

"And what if this is how I want to use my gift? By helping others realize theirs?"

Quinn raised her free hand in defense. "If it's what you want, fine. Far be it from me to tell you what to do with your life. But it doesn't mean I have to approve or won't think you're wasting your talent, letting it rot here, in disuse, and only coming out to play for the occasional audience of a dozen ungrateful teenagers."

Rachel blinked a few times, stung, staring up at that statuesque face, unpitying, cold. Truthful. Like always.

"And what about you?" When Quinn only quirked that eyebrow, Rachel rushed on, "I may be locking away my talent, but you'll be locking away yourself - again - if all you ever let anything be is...sex."

Quinn rolled her eyes heavenward and plopped down into the armchair, slinging her leg over one armrest. "Relationships are messy," she dismissed.

"_Sex_ is messy." She gestured about the room for emphasis.

Quinn's lip quirked in a subtle smirk, as she corrected deliberately, "It's efficient. I wanted you, you wanted me. We both got what we wanted."

"And you don't think it's any more complicated than that?" Rachel sighed, wrapping the throw tighter around her as the chill dug into her bones. "We're friends, Quinn. How do you think this 'efficient' act of sex is going to effect that?"

She waved a hand. "We're barely friends anymore. If we ever were."

Rachel grimaced at the sting this time. "Don't say that. You admitted we were kind of friends once. And you…" She swallowed. "You agreed to come to my wedding to support me, and you made me prom queen, and you - "

"You notice how all these acts of friendship came from me?" Quinn seemed to be heavily contemplating her beer bottle. "And I gave you train tickets to come and see me. And you never used them. You dropped me like a bad habit as soon as we graduated."

Rachel's jaw dropped. "That's not true! We emailed!"

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Rachel." A sigh. "Past doesn't matter. We lead different, and separate, lives now. There's no point in trying to complicate anything...when you're going to stay here, and I'm going back to _my_ home."

Rachel had no argument for that. Quinn was right. Long distance hadn't worked out for anyone she knew, so that avenue was out of the question. Especially since Quinn would just say they weren't a couple, or that she wasn't interested in a relationship, or that they would both end up cheating on each other anyway, so what was the point? She didn't know if Quinn was right about that. If they were all just animals, destined to cheat on each other sooner or later. They all had a messy track record, of course, and Quinn had it worst of all, not only due to her own slip-ups and relationships, but her very own father.

All Rachel knew was that she didn't want this to be a one time thing. She wanted Quinn. Just how she was going to get her was another matter entirely.


	4. Part 4

**Part 4**

It was a relief to be home. Rachel had sat there for another hour, maybe, staring across at Quinn while she sipped on a beer and cooling her own throat with the remainder of the water bottle Quinn had been kind enough to retrieve for her. They hadn't said anything more, after Quinn's last declaration, but still Rachel waited. For Quinn to speak to her, or smile at her, or hold her, or really, do anything besides relax in that damn chair and drink, perfectly satisfied with the world now that she'd had her way with Rachel. For any indication that Rachel might be able to change her mind, that gentle, sweet Quinn was still tucked away in there. But Quinn did nothing.

So Rachel had gathered her clothes and walked back home. She'd completely missed the glee club meeting and her voicemail was filled to the brim with messages from a worried Kurt. She sent him a text to reassure him that everything was fine, but something had come up. It would lead to more questions from him, but really no answer she could supply wouldn't. She'd missed glee club and that was just about the most alarming thing anyone who knew her could think of. So she could have to come up with something that could've 'come up.'

Telling the truth was out of the question - for now. Rachel doubted Sam and Noah wanted to advertise their affair to the world just yet, although they certainly could have picked a better spot to kiss in that case, and either way she needed to talk to both of them. Sam about how it was rather rude to use an unknowing party as a beard, and Noah, well. She needed to warn him that the next time he saw Quinn, she was not going to be the loving girlfriend he was expecting. Not that he deserved the warning, cheating on Quinn _again_, but he was less likely to be murdered if he went into it knowing he would be facing a battle.

And aside from Sam and Noah and their privacy, Rachel wanted to protect her own. Kurt may have been her best friend, but secrets were like a lit match to his gun powder. She had no intention of becoming another quirky lesbian sex legend like Santana and Quinn's night had. No, she wanted to keep Quinn, to draw back out the fierce lion in bed and the sweet lamb afterward. Because she knew Quinn could be sweet. She'd been sweet before, and each time Rachel thought of it now, in hindsight, she swooned over it, over Quinn's insistence that she was better than Lima, than Finn, than all of it. She wanted that back, and she wasn't afraid to work to get it. But she still preferred to do so without the ridicule and critical eyes of their friends.

The problematic part was formulating a plan to _get_ Quinn. Now they'd been together once, Quinn seemed to have little interest in being with her again. Rachel wasn't sure she could seduce Quinn. She was an excellent actress, of course, but without a script - her attempts at flirting usually wound up in disaster and being called a 'sad clown hooker.' And Quinn was so aware of everything and everyone and their motives. Rachel had had to be so very careful the one time she'd manipulated Quinn into doing something, and that was only dueting with Sam, which Rachel suspected Quinn had wanted to do anyway - a first step to getting a popular boyfriend again. Every other attempt at maneuvering Quinn ended with either being maneuvered herself or being scoffed or laughed off.

Usually the direct approach was a bit more successful. Sometimes. But Rachel had already fought for her side of things, and Quinn had practically shrugged her off. So perhaps the idea of getting Quinn in bed until she had no choice but to admit they were a 'thing' wouldn't be the most successful approach. That didn't mean Rachel wouldn't still try it, of course. But perhaps appealing to Quinn's friendship would garner better results. After all, she'd commented on the fact that they had grown apart, that she was always the one taking the steps forward, which Rachel had to reluctantly admit wasn't all wrong. Quinn was always the one making the gestures - part of her sweetness - while Rachel talked but did nothing. And actions seemed very important to Quinn.

By the time Rachel realized someone was knocking on her bedroom door, the water in her shower was running cold, she had no answer for the 'something' that came up, and she had no idea what her first gesture of friendship should be. But now that she was aware of the coldness, she wasn't about to keep standing under the spray to think about it some more. She almost yelped, hopping out of the tub to grab her towel and scrub off the goosebumps, shouting to the knocking person that she would be there in a moment. It might've taken more than a moment, between drying off and combing her hair and getting clothes on, but the person stopped knocking, and when she whipped it open, there they stood, hunched and digging his hands in his jeans pockets in something like shame - "Sam. What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to check on you after you missed glee… We were all really worried." He scuffed his shoe on the carpet.

Rachel puffed a breath. "Well, thank you, but I'm perfectly all right, as you can see. Something came up, that's all."

Sam nodded. Rachel settled her hands on her hips, watching him rock silently on his heels. She thought to speak up, to get started on her lecture about beards and his rudeness in using her as one without her permission, but seeing him there, looking so glum, it was difficult to find the words. So she waited until it was evident he wasn't going to say anything, either.

"Was there something else?"

His mouth twisted in one corner, and she thought he was going to say no and bolt - he looked ready to - but then he nodded. "I kinda need to talk to you."

There it was. The admittance. He was going to come clean about everything, and perhaps she wouldn't have to lecture him after all. She pushed her door further open and gestured him in.

"Well, come in then."

He muttered his thanks, shuffling forward like a puppy who'd just been scolded, so slowly Rachel had to resist the urge to swat him forward. Instead, she turned to shut the door - not that her dads would listen in, but to offer Sam the illusion of privacy anyway. When she turned back to him, Sam was just standing there again, like he had in her doorway.

"So? What is it?" She batted her lashes, trying for doe-eyed innocence.

But then he said, "Something kinda happened today. This afternoon. And I'm not...I'm kinda confused about it."

Oh. It hadn't occurred to Rachel that that might've been a first kiss. She wasn't sure why, except that Noah was the kind of person who went all the way in their cheating. So perhaps that had been a 'first time' situation as well. She hoped they'd gone somewhere private rather than suffer the poor glee kids with the sight of the middle of something. Though Sam had known she wasn't there. But perhaps they didn't...take very long. She abruptly decided to stop thinking about that, and instead to prod Sam again, gently.

"Oh? What happened?"

Sam was wringing his hands now, audibly cracking his knuckles. "I, um."

"I won't tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about," she tried, but Sam shook his head.

"No, I know you wouldn't. You're...you're pretty cool like that. Which just, it makes it...worse." He heaved a sigh. "I like you. You know that, right?"

Rachel smiled. He was trying to lighten the blow. "Of course. I like you, too, Sam."

"Right, and I know that, and I wouldn't want to hurt you in any way."

"But?" She stepped closer, peering at his scrunched face.

"But. I. Um. Puck, he kissed me," he admitted at last, and the whole of his body seemed to deflate. "And I didn't stop it and I-I think…"

Oh again. They'd only kissed. Rachel suddenly felt very silly for all the assumptions she'd been making, but then, after the hot afternoon _she'd_ had… In some way, she had felt better when she thought Sam and Noah had consummated things at least once, like everyone was on an even keel after she'd been with Quinn. Now to find out she had leapt into bed - so to speak - with Quinn when Noah had kissed a sexually confused Sam, well, she and Sam were definitely not on kilter anymore. But still Rachel didn't regret it, and she reassured herself with the fact that she and Quinn had had a much longer, richer history than Sam and Noah had, so of course they'd been more predisposed to a sexual encounter. Sexual tension could only simmer so long before it boiled over.

And at least she and Sam were on the same page in one way. They'd both had a very sexually charged encounter that afternoon with equally confusing results. Sam left with the idea that he might be gay or bisexual; Rachel left with a Quinn who both wanted and didn't want her - but who she wanted very much.

Rachel finally brought her gaze back to Sam, thinking this, and finished for him: "You like him."

Sam just looked at her for a moment. "Maybe… I don't know. But I had to tell you. I wouldn't have felt right if I didn't."

Dammit.

Rachel sighed. "Then I should tell you… You should probably stay away from Quinn for a while."

His brow furrowed. "Well, I wasn't gonna pursue Puck or anything. I mean, I don't even really know what I want and - "

"No, I mean, you need to stay away from Quinn. She saw the two of you. And so did I," she admitted, biting on her bottom lip.

She had never seen anyone change colors so rapidly before.

"She saw? You-you saw? Quinn saw?"

Rachel nodded. "I was going to the auditorium to get things set up for glee, and I guess she came back to surprise Noah or something, and - "

"Oh, God, I'm sorry." Sam ran his hand through his hair, sticking it straight up. "I'm sorry, I didn't… How mad is she?"

"She's pretty furious." Rachel crossed her arms with a sigh. "Mostly at Noah, I think, but I would still keep my distance if I were you."

"Right…"

He was still white as a sheet. Now was as good a time as any, she supposed.

"We had sex."

Sam's eyes were so wide Rachel worried they were going to pop or something, but at least he was still speaking, albeit at a volume only dogs could hear at first. "You and Quinn? Quinn and you?"

Rachel nodded, rubbing her own arms. "I expect you won't tell anyone either, but since we're being honest… I went home with her after we saw you and Noah and...it just kinda happened."

"No. I mean, no, I won't...I won't tell anyone."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "Not even the Tea Club?"

That startled a chuckle from him. "Cross my heart."

Rachel smiled back at him, but both smiles faded away as the silence carried on. Her heart ached with sympathy for him. For so long, she, too, had denied herself the label of bisexual. It just seemed so cliche; the daughter of two gay men, bisexual? It wasn't like being the lesbian daughter of two gay men, but it was bad enough. Bad enough to be part of the stereotype that said gay people were an infection, that they turned kids to their lifestyle and so they shouldn't be allowed to have any at all. She'd never wanted to disappoint her fathers that way, by besmirching them with that kind of reputation.

And then there was Kurt, her best friend, who even now rolled her eyes any time she mentioned an attraction to a woman, because he didn't believe in bisexuals. As if they were unicorns or Jesus. Rachel tried to ignore it with him, because he was her best friend and it seemed like such a minor annoyance in the scheme of things. But then she'd remember that he was part of a bigger crowd that believed bisexuals were just extra confused or would just sleep with anything or gay people who didn't want to admit it to themselves. That they weren't real, couldn't possibly be. They made it difficult for people like Rachel and Sam to admit it to themselves, especially knowing what Kurt, someone so close to them, would say.

But all that didn't matter anymore, Rachel decided. If Sam wanted to be with Noah, he should be with Noah. Preferably after Quinn broke up with him, but still - they should be together, and Sam should be a proud bisexual. And if Rachel wanted to be with Quinn, she would be with Quinn. She still just had to figure out how.

"So I guess we're kinda over, huh?" Sam said suddenly, almost as if to himself.

They both jumped at the broken silence, but once she recovered, Rachel reached to squeeze his hand.

"I guess we are." She smiled, reassuring. "For what it's worth, if it weren't for the fact that I'm crazy about Quinn - "

"You are?" Sam's eyebrows had almost reached his hairline, but he was smiling.

Rachel felt her cheeks reddening. "Well...yes. Weren't you?"

His head bobbed. "Well, yeah. But she was never crazy about me. She's kind of a heartbreaker. Not that that's her fault or that she even does it on purpose, but she's so hard to get close to, you know?" He eyed her. "You sure you can handle it?"

She lifted her chin defiantly at him. "I'm Rachel Berry. Of course I can handle it. Quinn Fabray will be desperately in love with me before she knows what hit her."


End file.
